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| Public Library, Newark, NJ |
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn’t it a pity
Doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city
The Lovin Spoonful sang those lyrics back in the summer of 1966. For those of us who grew up in the city, the song certainly rang true.
Today marks the first day of summer, and as I thought about a topic for my Inkspot post, my thoughts drifted to those hot summer days of my childhood.
I grew up in Newark, NJ back before community pools or recreational centers. Swimming involved families either sending their kids to camp, driving down the shore, or paying to belong to either a private swim club or the local Y. My family had no money for any of these luxuries. Six of us were crammed into a tiny two-bedroom apartment. My parents slept on a sofa bed in the living room. My sister and I shared one bedroom; my brothers shared the other.
Summers in the city were brutal. Fans were nearly useless. All they did was blow around hot air. Eventually, my parents bought a small air-conditioner for the living room, but it did me and my siblings little good since we were all sent outside first thing in the morning and only allowed back in the apartment for lunch and potty breaks.
What I remember most about those summers were the hours and hours I’d spend at the library. The library was such a magical place for me that I never thought twice about having to walk over a mile in 90+ degree heat to get there. Once I arrived, I was transported to far away places, sometimes wonderful, sometimes not so wonderful, but always an escape from the realities of summer in the city.
What did I read? Everything. Back then the librarians ran summer reading programs and kept track of the books we read. After finishing a book, we’d give a brief oral report to the librarian. She’d record the book and hand out certificates at the end of the summer. I don’t know what happened to my certificates. My parents probably threw them out when we finally moved to the suburbs. What I do remember, though, is that every summer I read the most books of anyone taking part in the summer reading program. Perhaps those long ago summers of reading at the library played a role in me becoming an author. I’d like to think so.
How did you spend the summers of your youth?
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn’t it a pity
Doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city
The Lovin Spoonful sang those lyrics back in the summer of 1966. For those of us who grew up in the city, the song certainly rang true.
Today marks the first day of summer, and as I thought about a topic for my Inkspot post, my thoughts drifted to those hot summer days of my childhood.
I grew up in Newark, NJ back before community pools or recreational centers. Swimming involved families either sending their kids to camp, driving down the shore, or paying to belong to either a private swim club or the local Y. My family had no money for any of these luxuries. Six of us were crammed into a tiny two-bedroom apartment. My parents slept on a sofa bed in the living room. My sister and I shared one bedroom; my brothers shared the other.
Summers in the city were brutal. Fans were nearly useless. All they did was blow around hot air. Eventually, my parents bought a small air-conditioner for the living room, but it did me and my siblings little good since we were all sent outside first thing in the morning and only allowed back in the apartment for lunch and potty breaks.
What I remember most about those summers were the hours and hours I’d spend at the library. The library was such a magical place for me that I never thought twice about having to walk over a mile in 90+ degree heat to get there. Once I arrived, I was transported to far away places, sometimes wonderful, sometimes not so wonderful, but always an escape from the realities of summer in the city.
What did I read? Everything. Back then the librarians ran summer reading programs and kept track of the books we read. After finishing a book, we’d give a brief oral report to the librarian. She’d record the book and hand out certificates at the end of the summer. I don’t know what happened to my certificates. My parents probably threw them out when we finally moved to the suburbs. What I do remember, though, is that every summer I read the most books of anyone taking part in the summer reading program. Perhaps those long ago summers of reading at the library played a role in me becoming an author. I’d like to think so.
How did you spend the summers of your youth?
Lois Winston writes the critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mysteries series. The first book, Assault With A Deadly Glue Gun, was a January 2011 release and received starred reviews from both Publishers Weekly and Booklist and has been nominated for a Book of the Year Award by ForeWords Reviews. Death by Killer Mop Doll, the second book in the series, was released in January. Visit Lois at http://www.loiswinston.com and Anastasia at the Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers blog, http://anastasiapollack.blogspot.com.
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